


Bob

by yeaka



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Demyx just has one complaint.





	Bob

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom Hearts or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s reading when the door creaks open, but that’s never stopped Demyx before, and Zexion knows it won’t now. He doesn’t put his book down, doesn’t even close it, because that would feel too much like _permission_ for this nonsense. But he does leave a mental bookmark and shifts his focus to the doorway, where Demyx is slipping inside.

Fresh off a mission—one he actually left for without complaint, for the first time since Zexion’s known him—Demyx saunters across the confined space of Zexion’s private quarters. The room is sparse, spotless, stark white and cold. Sometimes it feels like Demyx is trying to bring _life_ into it, but that’s a losing battle. He comes to plop down on the edge of Zexion’s mattress, within arm’s reach of where Zexion’s perched against the headboard. Then he lifts his hand and flicks his wrist, producing a pair of silver scissors from his sleeve. He holds them up to cheerfully announce, “Look what I bought in Twilight Town.”

Zexion lifts an eyebrow. The item itself is curious only for how _ordinary_ it is, but Zexion points out instead: “Out in the open? Better not let Saïx hear of that.”

“Pfft,” Demyx snorts, with a flick of his other hand. “Axel buys ice cream all the time.”

“Saïx likes Axel more than you.”

Demyx wrinkles his nose, but he doesn’t fight it. He could point out that Saïx isn’t their true leader, and they don’t all truly _need_ to indulge in Vexen’s paranoia. Stepping out of the shadows every now and again won’t do much damage. But Demyx drops that avenue and instead sighs, “Well, I had to buy them—I couldn’t find any here. This castle has so little _in it_ , you know?”

Zexion casually counters, “What do you expect from a castle of Nobodies?” Then, while Demyx pouts, he adds, “And what do you need scissors for anyway?”

A smile instantly flitters back across Demyx’s face. It is overtly handsome, as childish as it can seem, but Zexion knows that such a smile usually foreshadows trouble. Demyx pointedly snips the air and answers, “To cut your hair.”

Zexion immediately stiffens. “You’re not doing that.”

“Please?”

With an edge of warning in his stern voice, Zexion insists, “No.”

“ _Please_ ,” Demyx whines, posturing dipping into that of a begging dog, something Zexion never wants to fall for. But Demyx shifts closer, sidling up to Zexion, surging warmth against his side and eyeing him up like he’s the center of Demyx’s universe: a god asked to bestow only a tiny gift. When Zexion shakes his head, half just in exasperation, Demyx actually whimpers.

Refusing to give in, Zexion growls, “I thought you liked the way I look.”

“I do, but it’s just... those bangs... they get in the way, you know?”

Zexion doesn’t know. “In the way of what?”

He flinches back when Demyx leans forward, but Demyx holds the scissors away, using his other hand to tuck a few slate-coloured strands behind Zexion’s ear. Then he nuzzles into Zexion’s face like a cat in heat, and he purrs in a desperate plea, “ _This_.” He presses a chaste kiss against the side of Zexion’s lips, then pulls away and wrinkles his nose as more of Zexion’s bangs tickle it. 

For a few seconds, Zexion’s quiet. Normally, he’d either shove Demyx away and demand ‘ _later_ ’ or grab a fistful of Demyx’s own styled blond locks and push him down to claim. But as Zexion eyes his boyfriend from under the protective curtain of his fringe, he supposes he can see what Demyx is getting at. The veil was good when he really was trying to keep the world out, but now that he has one person he allows in...

He grunts begrudgingly, “Fine.” As Demyx brightens and lifts the scissors, Zexion snatches them skillfully out of his fingers. “But only a _small_ trim, and _I’ll_ do it.”

Demyx chuckles, “Fine by me,” and lounges back onto the bed to watch, sitar already forming in his hands.


End file.
